PS 

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The 

Unseen 

House 



By 

Sylvester 

Baxter 



TWO HUNDRED COPIES ONLY OF THIS LIM- 
ITED EDITION HAVE BEEN PRINTED, EACH 
NUMBERED AND SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR. 



THIS NUMBER IS 



r 



/ u| ilA<£x^tI> /i>^t^f2tX- 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 



THE 
UNSEEN HOUSE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



SYLVESTER BAXTER 




BOSTON 

The Four Seas Company 
1917 



^-^*' 



Copyright, 1917, by 
The Four Seas Company 



The Four Seas Press 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



m II 1918 

©CI.A4818()8 



/IaC 



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TABLE OF CONTENTS 

I '^^^ Foreword 7 

i . The Unseen House 13 

At the Public Bath 18 

Blue Waters 24 

Coals and Ashes : 1916 30 

The Vortex 31 

Dream — or Vision ? 37 

Father and Son 41 

Friends at War 45 

War Posters 49 

Recruits 5^ 

The Returning 60 

Good-will and God's Peace 63 



FOREWORD 

AS TO POETRY AND FORM 

When the poem begins to take shape in the poet's 
mind it seems to select its own form. If the form be 
dehberately selected in advance the effect must be that 
of the sophisticated, the self conscious. The circum- 
stance that much of the work in this volume is writ- 
ten in free verse, the oldest of poetic forms, suggests a 
few words about form. Despite its ancient origin, 
free verse today is perhaps the most misrepresented, 
misunderstood, and to no little extent abused, of all 
forms. 

Certain aspects of form, the more definite aspects, 
largely rest upon purely arbitrary considerations. Yet 
these non-essentials are the matters most in contro- 
versy. They are matters purely of arrangement, as of 
line-lengths, and even of the common distinction be- 
tween verse and prose. To the blind, for instance, 
their appreciation of poetry depending upon hearing 
instead of sight, and equally to those who cannot read 
(as the public of the primitive poets, the bards and 
minstrels, could not read) it can make not the least 
difference whether the lines of a poem be long or 
short, or even whether the verse aspect vanish utterly, 
and the lines run on as in the psalms of David. 

There is need of another word for the proper con- 
sideration of the contrasting aspects of poetry and 
prose. At present we are also obliged to oppose verse 
and prose, and the unfortunate consequence is that 
[7] 



8 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

poetry and verse are popularly confounded. Much 
prose is also poetry : imaginative prose, prose that 
embodies the poetic essentials of rhythm, cadence, 
and perhaps even rhyme. Such prose easily becomes 
verse, metrical and rhythmic. On the other hand 
verse faultless in rhythm., meter and rhyme may be 
hopelessly prosaic, without the slightest suggestion of 
poetry. But what we call poetic prose is true poetry. 

Line-arrangement, or verse, whether regular or 
"free," finds its real service in guiding the eye and 
conveying a clearer perception of quality, a better 
sense of structure, while assisting vocalization. The 
line suggests a pause at the end, a pause that may be al- 
most imperceptibly slight. This aspect of structure 
is widely disregarded in much of the free-verse ar- 
rangement of today, with effects of incoherence, of 
scrappiness. Free verse, in its rhythm, its cadence, 
its adjustment of line-lengths, demands an attention to 
technique as painstaking in its way as in the most 
highly finished regular forms. One has but to look at 
some of the manuscripts of Walt Whitman to appre- 
ciate how great was his devotion to technique. 

In the free-verse forms contained in this volume the 
author has aimed to obtain the qualities of nature- 
cadence suggested by such sounds as that of running 
water, the liquid notes of water dropping into a pool, 
the voices of the wind — sound-sequences in which, 
however irregular the impression, there appear to be 
certain definite rhythmic recurrences. 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 9 

There is one conventional aspect of modern English 
verse which transgresses the rules of clear perception 
and does much to impede natural expression That is 
the custom of beginning verse invariably with 
a capital. This tends to interrupt the continuity of 
thought demanded by the continuity of the sentence. 
The more logical Latin mind has adopted the sensible 
rule exemplified in modern French and Spanish verse, 
of limiting the capital letters to the beginning of the sen- 
tence And since free-verse particularly demands this 
continuity in expression, the reform has been 
adopted for the poems of that character contained in 

this volume. 

The Unseen House was suggested by the extra- 
ordinary beautv of the new home for the Perkins In- 
stitution for the Blind on the banks of the Charles m 
Watertown and the circumstance that its beauty was 
not directly manifest to the sightless ones for whom 
it was built. The poem first appeared in the Boston 
Evening rranscrlpt At the Public Bath, written in 
1889, was contributed to a special publication issued 
bv the Boston Press Club. Dream or Vision and Good 
Will and God's Peace appeared in Unity; Father and 
Son in the Westminster Gazette, London; Friends at 
War in the Evening Mail, New York; War-Posters in 
the Boston Herald; The Returning in the New York 
Sun; Coals and Ashes in the Christian Endeavor 
World. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 

SAMUEL GRIDLEY HOWE 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

God builds a house for the soul of man, 
But Man knows not he dwells therein. 

A BLIND ONE SPEAKS : 

How strange the things we often hear: 

those words that must be full of sense, 
The thoughts that others comprehend — 

and yet they stand for things unknown, 
For things zve may not hope to know. 

They tell of things called beautiful: 
For us who cannot see, the term 

depicts this well beloved place. 
This pleasant terrace where we stand— - 

where summer breezes kiss our cheeks, 
And where the genial sunshine falls 

and bathes us with its friendliness. 
Here spacious walks invite our steps ; 

a fine-grained marble balustrade 
Protects the outer side ; wide stairs 

lead down unto the landing-place 
Where boats await to bear us out 

upon the river's trancjuil tide. 

All this means beautiful. And yet 

to others this dear home of ours 
[13] 



14 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Enriches with its attributes 

the precious word with meanings strange 
Far, far beyond our power to think. 

For me 'tis like some lordly ship 
With splendid cargo laden deep — 

the better part of which remains 
Intangible except to those 

who're gifted with that other sense. 

I think of words like "golden glow," 

like "sunlit towers," like "glittering gates." 
I think of gold, its delicate 

response unto my finger-tips ; 
Of burnished gold — or velvet-faced 

as though with finest dust bestrewn; 
Gold liquified and molten warm 

for pouring over sunlit towers 
And washing down (as water flows) 

to wet with fire their glittering gates; 
Of wine made full of dusty gold 

for charging sunsets with their glow. 
Can others see things in the way 

I feel the sense of words like those? 

A while ago two visitors 

came hitherward and sat themselves 
Upon this bench where now we are, 

while I, unseen, lay in the sun 
Hard by, behind that lilac-bush. 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 15 

They were of those that have that sense 
Which builds for them another world 

outside the one that we do know. 
I wonder what 'tis like ! One said 

unto his friend: "How strange it seems 
That this palatial edifice 

of generous and stately halls — 
Its cloistered courts all graciously 

designed to gratify the eye, 
And so exalt the vision, like 

an anthem hewn and carved in stone — 
Should builded be to domicile 

these sightless ones : a vast abode 
Whose comforts make it home for them, 

but whose high beauty in design 
Is wasted for unseeing eyes, 

just as the rose's perfumed breath 
For one without a sense of smell, 

or as a glorious symphony's 
Melodious weavings fail to reach 

the ears of those who cannot hear. 
Of what avail for them is this 

fair landscape as it spreads away 
Before this ample terrace, while 

the sparkling river flows and loops 
Itself in gleaming curves across 

the meadow-levels to explore 
Mysterious distances until 

it comes at last to where awaits 



i6 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

To welcome it with open arms 

the boundless sea? 

"What can they know 
Of all this glorious excellence 

of sightly objects that rejoice 
The vision in a place where dwell 

the visionless, where lifts itself 
Majestically dominant, 

its sunlight-gilded pinnacles 
To heaven aspiring, yonder tower? 

Where many sights delectable 
Array themselves to constitute 

so rare a show of beauteous things 
That here they seem a mocker^'? 

"And yet to weave these vivid threads 
Of visibility throughout 

the fabric of the daily lives 
Of those for whom they naught can mean 

is after all a blessed thing. 
For in the message that it bears 

to us who have the light to read 
The inner meaning of the words 

it bids us learn, there also lies 
Another message, meant for them 

that cannot read the words of it 
But who, when of the wonders told 

the lavish world displays for us — 
(The undiscernible attributes 

of marvellous things that fill the void 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 17 

Of that dark sphere wherein they grope) 

are thus drawn out beyond themselves, 
Beyond the circumscribing bounds 

that hedge them in; and so impelled 
The endlessly expanding realms 

of soul and spirit to explore 
They strive to reach the glorious goal 

where sightless ones at last shall see." 

The strangers rose and went their way. 

I wish I knew what all that meant ; 
What all they said may signify. 

But truly may it not well be 
That the finer grains of sense we have 

must compensate for what we lack : 
Equivalent to what their sight 

may mean for them? And furthermore 
May there not even be, beyond 

their wondrous world where things are seen 
A world of senses yet more keen, 

where they who dwell therein enjoy 
Transcendent pleasures, marvellous, 

beyond compare with aught we know — • 
We, whether blind or blest with sight? 



AT THE PUBLIC BATH 

An Idyl of the Tozvn 

Here is the pviblic bath that the city has made for the 
people ; 
here on the edge of the bay, a gravelly beach gently 

shelving, 
and the southerly slope holds the sunshine 
that heats the bare flats to make warm for the swim- 
mers 
the incoming tide. 
Here the clear waters dance in the soft summer breeze, 
beating their lively staccato on the float, on the plat- 
form and piling, 
when the tide is high, and the wind sweeping freshly 
across the wide reach of the bay and the level salt 

marshes- 
subsiding again to a vitreous surface 
that languidly creeps 
with the ebb or the flow in a calm. 
Here all through the summer this place is a province 

in Nature's benignant republic. 
Close by is the town with its unceasing turmoil, 
its fierce competitive warfare, 
its pitiless crushing of bodies and souls in the mills 

of its traffic, 
its festering evils 

induced by the barbarous scramble for bread and 
for gold. 

[i8] 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 19 

But here for the moment is toil left behind; 

all care is forgotten, 

pleasure prevails and peace rules the scene. 
II. 
Across the wide space of the bay, 

where the yachts gaily float like bevies of sea-birds, 

the aqueous tints end and a carpet of green is out- 
spread 

for the feet of the distant great hills, 

majestic in mantles of purple. 
Here is true democracy ; 

all are made free, are made equals and brothers. 
And because of these terms 

all manner of persons come hither, 

obeying the enticing call of the summer sea — 

and to heed that behest 

means to yield all distinctions 

and stand but a man among men. 

III. 
Here comes a young fellow: the son of a banker; 

he leaves with the keeper his well filled purse and 
his costly gold watch, 

hires a towel, takes a dressing-room key, 

and dofifs his fine garments in the neatly kept place. 
In the adjacent compartment 

a youthful mechanic undresses; 

beyond, there's a stalwart young teamster 

who hurriedly strips off his clothing; 



20 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

and there also are clerks, day-laborers, and school- 
boys. 
Outside on the platform swarm dozens of urchins 
who shed in a twinkling their scanty attire ; 
they carelessly leave it wherever it chances to drop. 

IV. 

Returning their keys to the keeper, 

who hands back a disc inscribed with the numbers 
to wear round the neck on a cord of elastic, 
all hasten alike to the water. 

Tn rank or in wealth 

no difference now exists for the eye. 
The youthful mechanic, shapely and gracefully poised, 

might pass for the brother of his fortune- favored 
neighbor, 
who, trained to an athelete in the college gym- 
nasium, 

steps forth from his doorway 

with face, neck and arms richly browned 

by his yachting and boating throughout the long 
summer. 
Down to the water they run side by side; 

in friendliness they laugh 

at the first cool touch of the lapping wave; 

together they plunge for the joyous embrace 

of the mother-element's welcoming arms; 

and then as companions 

they bravely strike out with lithe and supple motion. 



I 

I THE UNSEEN HOUSE 



V. 

What lusty enjoyment on every hand! 
Divers leap from the raft, 

taking the water in rocket-like curves, 

sheathing themselves in the liquid 

as into its scabbard slides the blade of a sword. 
Boys noisily splash, 

churning the water to foam and ducking each other, 

their merry shouts echoed back by the waves 

that blend them in watery babble 

to a part of the same nature-music. 



VI. 

Those lads and young men 

who are running and plunging, swimming and 
floating, 

standing there kissed by the sunshine, 

their bodies all glistening with the wet of the waves 

and healthily flushed by the gentle smite of the ca- 
ressing water, 

varying in delicate tints conveyed by inherited hues 

from ancestral races — 

some a warm olive, some a rich brown, beside the 
prevalent ivory tones — 

all intermingling here in this land, 

prophetic of vigorous American stock . . . 

with all these hundreds here, 



22 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

what looker-on might so discerning be 

as unto each respective to assign 

the station or rank they may hold among men 

while thus they stand in frank equality — 

as equal each to each they came into the world? 

VII. 

Yet there are distinctions 

sharply marked in this or that misshapen feature, 
or stunted growth, or pallid tinge from malnutrition : 
profanements of the Master's handiwork 
wrought by poverty's inflictions and direful stress 
of toil. 

Still — the day must surely dawn 

when the curse of this blemish shall vanish — 
as the tonic touch of air and sunshine 
dispels a blight most foul. 

Then men throughout life shall be equal and free, 
each lending a hand to his brother, 
as today, here and now, for a moment they stand — 
prophetic the symbol they give us — 
in the pure democracy of the bath. 

VIII. 

A curious desire arises: 
a longing for the power 

to strip our human kind of all extrinsic things 
and let men stand together without discrimination — 
princes with peasants, 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 27, 

with paupers the proud of purse, 

the lackey erect beside the lord, 

savage together with civilized man — 

and then annihilate their bauble havings 

as one might gather up these various garments here 

and toss them all into the sea ! 

IX. 

But even now the inner eye, 

true-seeing, crystal-visioned, 

may surely view humanity in this unerring way. 
Eor all superfluous things from us must fall 

when sooner or later we plunge 

into the bath of Death 

to emerge with naked souls 

unabashed in Eternity's air. 



BLUE WATERS 

Insistently my thoughts return to Mexico : those 
days of young manhood, days steeped in sunlight; 
feeding my soul with the beauty that blesses a land 
which was meant for mankind at its best — and marred 
now by man at his worst. 

My memory is filled with manifold pictures. When 
1 lecall them the music of Spanish speech weaves it- 
self throughout the scenes I knew: music as from 
brooks unseen in a woodland — rivulets of words in 
a golden flow, words whose very sounds convey the 
essence of their sense; sonorous words, meltingly 
rounded and melody bearing. 

Again I look from the heights as in days long past. 
I stand at the tableland's verge and I see afar off — far 
— far. . .into the dimness of illimitable distances: 
vast valleys, whose level floors are lakes of hazy at- 
mosphere, drowsing in warm tranquility. 

Beneath in the vaporous depths extend the regal 
haciendas — sugar-cane all golden green, emerald rice- 
fields, thousands of acres of tender young wheat, in- 
tervals of yellow stubble left from the harvested flax, 
dark islands of glossy-leaved trees studded witli 
buildings of dazzling white. As I look down upon 
them the wide cultivations are softened by glorified 
tintings into magnificent tapestry carpets; bathed in 
[24] 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 25 

palpitant, sun-shot air, they show like opalescent 
shallows among the palm- fringed islands of Carri- 
bean waters. 

Huge land-waves roll off to meet wet billows down 
in the Gulf, or im Pacific waters, where at last the 
mountains submerge themselves — their stupendous 
undulations richly robed with tropical forests. 

Unseen from the heights, sweet waters course 
through joyous valleys — unseen, except where ven- 
turesome streams make daring leaps in flashing white- 
ness down into chasms all brimming with shade. Again 
they hide in sheltering woods — but now in vain their 
concealment ; rose-hued rivers of blossoming trees that 
grow on the banks of the streams wind like the 
crooked wake of a tacking ship through the sea of the 
forest and betray the ways of the waters below. 

Profound allurements entice me ; I yield and des- 
cend. And there I seek out the hiding waters ; they 
are calling and calling in liquid Spanish, meltingly 
rounded and melody borne. I discover the lusty 
young rivers that have leaped from the hills, their 
banks of velvety verdure splendidly starred with 
butterfly orchids. 

The waters are sweet — though they've taken their 
toll from the rocks to be paid to the sea. Their 
mineral burden heightens their buoyance, sustaining a 
swimmer like ocean water; in return it dyes them 



26 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

a deep and luminous blue: the blue of Swiss lakes, the 
blue of a tropical sea. 

That is el agua acid : the blue water, holy to Mexican 
gods — not the borrowed blueness, lent in sky reflec- 
tions ; ever constant is the color to the earth-imparted 
hue ; it loyally holds its vividness beneath gray cano- 
pies of low-hung clouds that ride with the steadfast 
trade-wind — clouds driving inland from the ocean to 
drape the mountain-slopes with mist ; blue through all 
the sylvan gloom of bosky tunnels where verdure- 
hung vaults are paved with a polished translucence ; 
blue in silent river-reaches, motionless as mirrors of 
glass ; blue as of turquoise veined with quartz, through 
murmuring intervals of swift unrest; blue in cav- 
ernous depths where daylight sifts down through 
festoonments of blossoming plant-growth — here 
strangely weird the cerulean hue when beneath the 
flash of flaring torches, the bodies of bathers, floating 
in gloom, show in luminous blue pallor, ghostlike 
through the water's blackness ; blue that glances and 
merrily dances, sunny as Saxon eyes, when in eager 
escape from the cave the river dashes again into the 
open day and tumbles in jubilant bounds over the 
brinks of giant clifi^s to fall in a filmy fabric of water 
and air, lightly wreathed with foaming lace as it veil^, 
rock-faces disguised w^th moss-covered masks. 

So I and my comrades roam through the valleys 
where run the blue waters. We bathe in the rivers. 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 27 

dive in the wonderful pools, swim in the caverns, and 
splash in nude sport where the rivers come tumbhng 
down from the tableland heights. And there, while it 
falls the water calls out the name that was made for 
its filling: el salto del agua, el salto del agua, I hear it 
incessantly calling. 

Thus the voice of the waters come running together 
in flowing Castilian— meltingly rounded, melody 
bearing and melody borne-repeated again and again 
to fall from the tongue in liquid delight, weaving its 
words throughout my Mexican pictures until o them- 
selves they dance into orderly sequence and tell what 
they say in a song:— 

The Leap of the Water 
Agua azul! — 

And 't is azure-blue water, 
The hue of the skies in the crystalline pool- 
There are plumes of bamboo, there are marvellous 

margins 
Of maiden hair lace-work above the swift salto, 
El salto del afifwa— the leap of the water— 
Azure-blue water, 
Agua azul! 

Agua azul! — 

And 't is azure-blue water, 

The hue of her eyes in the amethyst pool 

Where the turbulent river makes merry commotion, 



28 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Boiling and foaming below the high salto. 
El salto del agua— the leap of the water — 
Azure-blue water, 
Agua azul! 

Agua azul! — 

And 't is azure-blue water ! 

Young laughter resounds in the tropical pool 

Where boys gaily plunging in frothy blue turmoil 

Are showered with the tingling delight of the salto. 

El salto del agua — the leap of the water — 

Azure-blue water, 

Agua azul! — 



FRIENDS AT WAR 



COALS AND ASHES: 1916 

Adventuring in golden glory 

(Half dreaming through an olden story, 

Romance wrought from ancient ways) 

I sit before my open fire 

And hark me hack to knightly days. 

But while on glowing coals I gaze 

New flames leap up — and in their glare 

The crumbling logs shozv ashen there. 

Then old-time romance fades away, 

Its glowing fabric turning gray 

Before the unrelenting blaze 

That rages through these tragic days. 



THE VORTEX 

I. 

Imponderable as thought, 

the tenuous envelopment of spirit — 

enfolding the world 

and saturating it throughout, 

endowing its every particle with the potency of 

life- 
is real as the water is, 

as actual as air. 
Inconceivably sensitive, 

a medium responding to slightest impulse 

of will or thought 

(as radiographic waves, intangible, 

transmit intelligence 

from world's end to world's end), 

the mightiest of forces 

are there eternally at work, 

manipulating the moulds 

wherein the forms of all vitality 

are perpetually recast, 

and unerringly directing human destinies. 
These all prevailing potencies 
may be aroused to action 

by a single breath of human passion. 
Hence it came to pass 

[31] 



32 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

that within that realm 
which enwraps this world 
there gathered together — 
like vultures expectant of carrion — 
the ominous forces of evil. 
United by discord they sang: 

The Moment! 

The Moment we long have awaited J 
It lieth at hand; 
And now shall he sated 
In every land 
The will of our pleasure 
Beyond any measure 
The zvorld has yet known. 
From vast conflagrations 
Consuming the nations 
The glare that is cast 
Shall disclose the dark throne 
Of the Master of Sin 
As in dr apings of red 
Bedrenched with the blood 
That then shall be shed: 
Torrents of blood 
From myriads dead! 

The Moment! 

The Moment is Now! 

Else were it too late ; 

For the nations were learning to know 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 33 

Tliat their peoples can only bestozv 

The best they may give 

Unless by the Law they shall live 

That gives of their best to each other — 

Each man unto each as a brother. 

Hence the March of the Race 

Was approaching the place 

Where the bounties of life — 

Of life at its best — 

Were its ozvn at the close of the quest 

That ends zvith the ending of strife! 

II. 

Everywhere 

people were peacefully at work; 

from a cloudless sky 

The sun poured down, its kindly light 

and men looked up and smiled, 

thankful for life 

in a world so excellent. 
Peasant lads in Belgium 

were breeding carrier pigeons, 

and buyers came to send them over seas : 

thousands and thousands of the gentle birds. 
Farmers were cultivating their fields 

and harvesting their crops ; 

gardeners tilling their vineyards, 

florists cherishing choice flowers — 

sending potted azaleas 



34 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

and rhododendrons 
in splendid bloom to other lands. 
Industry hummed in hundreds of shops and mills 
and voices spoke in the whirring wheels : 

For the weal of the world 
we are lending a hand! 

III. 

A shot rang out — 

and then another ! 
The victims were royal : 
"Pro patr'ia," cried the youth, exulting. 

From the pool of blood 

a little cloud rose up, 

and as the sunshine touched it 

It grew dark and ominous. 
Ascending, it spread 

whirling, whirling . . . 

IV. 

In the sultry silence of a summer noon 
the merest trifle — 
an arrow's flight, a pebble cast — 
may start a tiny whirlwind 

that daintily toys at first with scraps of paper 
and lightly sports a while with the highway dust 
until, like a growing tiger's-whelp 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 35 

that in one moment leaps 
from milk-fed harmlessness 
to quench a new-bom thirst for blood, 
it suddenly expands 
into a fierce tornado 
that cuts wide swaths of ruin 
through a devasted landscape. 
So fared the world from those pistol-shots 
scarce heard above the gala tumult of the Moment. 



The cloud sped swiftly onward, 

spreading from land to land 

until its baleful canopy 

quenched the cheerful sunlight 

throughout the earth. 
Evil words sounded out of the blackness, 

hatred their burden. 
Men listened eagerly and avidly obeyed. 
From prospering, peaceful trades 

men turned to the making of murderous things 

and the thinking of murderous thoughts, 

sowing broadcast the seeds of hopelessness 

throughout the earth. 

VI. 

The vortex born of those fatal shots 
has grown so vast 
under its evil momentum 



36 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

that even now it threatens 

to overwhelm all nations 

in a whirlwind of wrath. 
The service-gifts of fire 

and soul-illuminating speech 

received by Man from above 

first made him more than Beast, 

endowing him with potencies divine — 

or diabolical ; 

yet leaving him free choice as to the way 

that he would have them do his bidding 
And whenever the crucial Moment came 

how has he chosen? 
Has ever before 

the world been so dark as now? 

Yet sooner or later the tempest must pass, 
the sun must some time shine aqain. 



DREAM— OR VISION? 

That was a curious dream I had — 
Or vision, some would say it was ; 
It matters little as to name, 
It was so strange, it was so true: 

A wondrous Being — glorious, 

Divinely great, divijiely wise ! 

I somehow in its presence stood. 

There in the hollow of its hand 

A globe was held ; intent its gaze 

Thereon was fixed, as one might look 

Into a lustrous crystal sphere. 

So perfect was the imagery 

It seemed to be this very world, 

Its continents and oceans all 

Displayed within the envelope 

Of a translucent atmosphere. 

And as I looked on any part 

There I could see a teeming life 

Of infinite diversity, 

With all its intimate concerns 

In every detail manifest 

As were I there — and part of it. 

[37] 



38 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Whatever my attention claimed, 
Therewith I was identified, 
In perfect rapport with it all. 

I saw an island paradise : 

Each separate valley there enclosed 

A tiny nation by itself, 

Living its own life all apart, 

And quite idyllic, natural. 

Yet for the folk beyond the range 

Each little people cherished naught 

But hatred black, implacable. 

"What folly!" said I to myself. 

"They're neighbors all ; why rob 

And slay each other? Why . . . ?" 

Again I saw a paradise : 

An island, like the other one ; 

Indeed, it was the other one — 

Yet all of its inhabitants 

Were here one folk; and every vale. 

Now richly tilled, united was 

With neighboring valleys by smooth roads 

Where motor-cars sped to and fro; 

And telephones all houses joined 

Both near and far ; and everywhere 

The people all were closely knit 

In ties of trade and amity. 

Then ever wider grew my gaze : 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 39 

At first I saw the earth entire 
With all its kingdoms manifold, 
Involved in strife perpetual — 
One vast extension, as it seemed, 
Of that first island's savage state. 

But gradually there came about 
A steadfast betterment of things. 
Until at last I saw the world 
Approaching here, achieving there. 
In many a land the well-wrought state 
Whereby that second island realm 
Had raised itself from savagery 
To levels high, where happiness 
And all well-being were the rule. 

Yet while I gazed contentions rose 
And parts fell back, and so a blight 
Came over all— and sorrow fell, 
And evil days returned again. 
So happened it repeatedly — 
And every effort to retain 
The priceless blessings born of Peace 
Seemed all in vain. So then I turned 
And, sorrow-weighted, question made 
Unto that Being Mystical : 
"And must it ever be this way? 
May not that second island realm 
The model be for all the world — 
Prophetic of the day to come?" 



40 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

The Being smiled inscrutably : 

"The model stands, by man achieved; 

And man may easily attain 

Throughout the world those self -same boons 

Of lasting peace and happiness. 

He only has to know the Right. 

Yet it must ever be as now 

So long as mankind heedeth not 

The simplest lesson trade has taught 

Since those first days when things were brought 

From other lands unto those parts 

Where men desired and needed them : 

That commerce service means, not gain — 

Except the gain that brings no loss. 

That lays upon no man a cross; 

The gain that never comes with greed. 

And till this truth the nations heed 

Must wars he waged and peoples bleed." 



FATHER AND SON 
To the Memory of Charles Hamilton Sorley 
(1914 — May) 
I 
My boy with the joyous, clear-eyed gaze, 
Eager to face the world's rough ways 
With happy heart and laughing look 
As Life spreads wide its open book, 
How may it be when you have trod 
The long, the hard, the uphill road? 
Counting the milestones I have passed. 
Until the spot you'll come at last 
Where now I stand : a pilgrim worn, 
Illusions shattered, raiment torn. 
Yet glad I've come the weary way — 
Since each November led to May! 

2 
I almost envy you, my boy. 
The bitter sweetness of the joy 
I've known so well, and which awaits 
In all abundance ere the Gates 
At last shall close behind you. Then — ? 
But that lies far beyond our ken . . . 

3 

Meanwhile what wonders there shall be 
For your admiring eyes to see. 
For your inquiring soul to know, 
[41] 



42 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Before the Teachers bid you go ! 
I fain would make your lessons mine 
And further trace the great design 
Whose patterns gave me such delight 
As they, expanding from the night 
Of Nature's endless mystery, 
Have stood revealed for History. 

4 
A measure for those marvels vast 
Which, sealed for me, shall yet at last 
Show daylight-clear before your eyes, 
Disclosed in all their glad surprise, 
I find contained in what I've known — 
And manifold the number shown 
For your enchantment shall there be ; 
Though vain indeed were prophecy 
As to their purport. Yet my fate 
Has been to see such wonders great 
Made plain to man as were untold 
By all the records e'er unrolled 
For human eyes since Time began 
To shape the world for rule by Man : 
The telephone, electric light, 
Phonograph, wireless, human flight. 
Radio-activity, x-rays, 
Deep glimpses of the endless ways 
That unseen constellations sound 
And with electrons make the round . . . 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 43 

5 
To think, my boy, that you shall know, 
Before the time for you to go, 
Things yet more wondrous than all this ! 
It almost gives me eagerness — 
In spite of age, in spite of pain- 
To turn and fare the Road again: 
This kindly world, so excellent, 
As Man fulfills Divine Intent! 



II. 

(191 5 — November) 
I 
Dear boy, whose candid, laughing look 
Shone eager for Life's open book. 
Beneath the stars those once-glad eyes 
Are turned unheeding to the skies 
Amidst the windrows of the slain 
In battle's harvest. After pain 
In peace you lie. No marvels vast 
Await you here. Those hopes are passed 
Forever now. But on that shore 
To which you've sped, are not in store 
Such wonders for your soul to know 
As this world's life may never know? 
A kindly world, and excellent, 
Where Man fulfills Divine Intent . . .? 



44 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

2 

The roses pass — yet roses bloom 
Another year. Though in the tomb 
The body lies, beloved boy, 
The pulsing life that was your joy 
Its gracious tide forever pours 
Throughout this world, and never lowers 
Its volume while rejoicing youth 
In hosts exhaustless, seeking truth 
And bearing beauty, conquers earth 
By thronging through the Gates of Birth, 
Then pressing on with clear-eyed gaze. 
Eager to brave the world's rough ways 
With happy hearts and laughing looks 
And read Life's endless open books. 



FRIENDS AT WAR 

"As God gives us to see the right." 

I. 
And yet, dear friend, how may we know the right: 
For years we both have stood 
Together, striving for the common good. 
In works our faith was wrought; 
United we have sought 
The clarifying rays 
Of God's pure Hght. 

Now, in these troubled days, 
Quite other ties of soul and heart 
Have led us wide apart ; 
And there, where I see light. 
Your eyes behold but night ; 
What I as evil know. 
To you is right. 

II. 
Last night I dreamed 
Before a judge we stood; 
Most wise — and therefore good. 
He seemed. 
And taking heed 
Of our perplexity 
He thus decreed : 

[45] 



46 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

"You both are wrong, you both are right. 

What each deems evil is but good 

Abused, misnamed, misunderstood — 

As oriental music discord is 

For ears unwonted to an alien scale 

Which yields seductive melodies 

To them for whom your harmonies 

Are dissonance; so Heaven's divinest song 

Is but concordant blending 

Of all you know as wrong 

In balance with its opposites : 

The sympathies called right — 

Or as the sun's clear rays. 

So dazzling white. 

Unite conflicting hues 

In perfect light." 



We may indeed but dimly apprehend 

These cosmic meanings, at the best — 

And lest our souls take fright 

Before the vastness of the flight 

They're bid to make, 

We cling for guidance to each temporal thing 

We designate as "right." 

So, even though 

Your right may be my wrong, 

Your wrong my right. 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 47 

The tvv^o, antiphonal, mated in one true song, 

Wing upward to the hght 

Whose vibrant urgings thrill 

All pregnant life 

From whirling atoms up to lordly man 

And inconceivably far 

Beyond him, to fulfill 

The Cosmic Will. 

How might we mar 

That perfect plan? 



IV. 

But now, my friend, I only know 

I love you still. 

Although it is your nation's will 

That they whose cause is yours 

In blind obedience maim and kill 

The ones whose cause 

I can but feel 

Is just; the ones whose hearts 

I know are true as steel, 

Whose works and laws 

Have made for order and for righteousness. 

Have given them homes aglow 

With happiness — 

While you feel that you know 

Those very things as true 

Of them who wage their war for you. 



48 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

V. 

While hearts of milhons bleed, 
The heart of me is torn 
With all their agony; 
My soul with grief is worn 
For woe that's yet to be : 

Vast tragedies enacted — 
Whole continents their stage; 
Destruction's brutal rage ; 
The wrecking of a world — 
The helpless peoples hurled 
Into the black abyss 
Where lie long ages ended ; 
Hurled with all the hopes 
Wherewith they had ascended; 
Hurled with all the bliss 
Those hopes had built ; 
And all because — 
Perverting gifts divine, 
Defying Heaven's laws — 
They raised a House of Greed 
To guard an evil shrine. 

And is it thus we must fulfill 
The Cosmic Will? 



WAR-POSTERS 

(1915) 
I. 

Said the friendly attendant at the Hbrary : 
"You will find in the print-room today 

another war-poster — 

a German one at last — just in by mail." 

I had seen the collection only the day before: 
English almost all of it — 

(half a dozen Russian examples, 

but nothing from France or Germany) — 
Appeals for enlistment — stirring, pictorial — 

well designed and strong in color; 

the glory of war, the duty of men: 

"Be a sport 

and Lend a Hand to the Lads at the Front! 
They want your Help!" 

"Your Country has Need of You!" 

A portrait of "Bobs" ; 

before it, his sword and plumed hat 
forever laid by : 
"He did his Duty. 
Will you do Yours?" 

[49] 



50 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

II. 

As for the Russian cartoons : 
What was their purpose? 
Surely not enlistment ends ; 

in Russia the young men have to serve — 

just as the Germans, the Austrians, 

the French, the Belgians, 

have to serve : 
An equal duty laid upon them all. 

That Russian work was primitive indeed, . . 
Simply bad ; that is enough to say — 

the badness of an overgrown boy 

who boasts of his bigness 

and bullies the smaller fellows. 



Now, as I went upstairs to the print-room, 
I conjectured as to the German poster, 
quite curious to see what it might depict. 

Doubtless, I thought, 

something of blood and iron, 

breathing flame and fury — 

perhaps the "Chant of Hate" 

in picture-shape . . . 
Can that he itf 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 51 

Indeed, the words are German — 
but — a war-poster? 

Color subdued and restful, 
brown and gray and green ; 
intimate the sentiment, 
breathing love of home and peace : 

A man and a woman sitting together 

holding hands, 

gravely happy for the moment — 
He a wounded soldier 

home from the front, 

convalescent, 

his arm in a sling- 
She his young wife 

(or may be his sweetheart), 

a book in her other hand, 

reading aloud. 
And this the English of the legend: 
"Hold Communion with our Thinkers and Poets; 

The Book gives Joy and Consolation." 



RECRUITS 

"How strange that I should meet you now: 
the very man that I was thinking of!" 

It was my good friend, Doctor Verlyss: 
now examining surgeon 
at the recruiting-otfice for our district. 

"You're an artist — just the man for me," he said. 
"So come along; 

I'll .show you models galore ! 
I only fear you'll find it tantalizing 

to know you cannot paint them : 

'Greek gods,' 'young Apollos' — 

the regulation thing to say, you know, 

whenever comely, virile youths 

appear in their birthday suits. 
Are human beings godly only when they're stripped 

and frankly show themselves just as God fashioned 
them?" 

"When God made man in His own image," 
I laughingly made answer, 
"He left the clothing out 
(most reprehensibly, of course, 
according to some notions now so widely held) ! 
[52] 



53 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 



The clothing was an afterthought — 

though not of God's — 

I think the Devil must have been the tailor. . . . 
But tell me : 

how can sunlit Hellas here have bloomed anew — 

here in the North; in misty, dull-skied England?" 

"So many ancient things we deemed forever passed 
have come again for us in these strange days, 
we may not be surprised at anything coming back. 

We are shedding our civilization very fast just now. .. 

"Yes, I'll show it you — 

the whole classic outfit : 

Adonises, Narcisusses, Endymions — and all the rest. 
And I really want your help today," he said. 
"You know anatomy so throughly — 

and my second assistant, a youthful medical student, 

has been called away to the front. 
It leaves me for the moment in a hole." 

I needed no more urging. 

For enlistment it was a banner-day :. 

in Flanders a great battle had just been fought; 
the terrible slaughter had filled us with horror, 
drenched England with sorrow, 
yet bred no dismay — 



54 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

had only fired with sacrificial zeal 
our British youth. 

Before the door a crowd was waiting — 
silently, solemnly, patiently waiting, 
yet aflame with eagerness to serve; 
as eager, it would seem, 
to take the chances of war 
as were the stakes alluring prizes in a lottery 
instead of the awful likelihood 
of getting killed — or infinitely worse : 
maimed for life, or mutilated unspeakably: 
eternities of torment 
compressed to agonizing hours. 

It was touching to see that throng of young men there : 

so many young fellows yet in their teens 

or early twenties; 

carefully groomed to look their best for the crucial 
hour: 

little personal touches in neckties and scarf-pins, 

in pitch of hats and caps, in jaunty set of garments. 
And so many of them, after a few days more, 

never to wear civilian garb again ! 
So many boys of gentle blood, 

fresh from happy homes : 

friendly country houses, grown about with garden 
bloom, 

full of comfort — music, books and pictures — 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 55 

warm with family affection — 

quiet lamplit evenings, joyous outdoor days. 

II. 

"Sit here at this desk," said the Doctor, 
"and play for the day, 
that you are my second assistant." 

Undressing in the antechamber 

the young fellows entered stark naked, 

ushered in by a sergeant. 
At first abashed, perhaps, 

after a minute or two they took it as matter of 
course. 
Standing around in a group of a dozen or so 

they waited their turns to be weighed and measured 

and closely examined — 

the Doctor busily tapping and thumping, 

listening at the chest 

and carefully feeling them all over. 

All unembarrassed and never self-conscious, 
straying about the room and casually looking at 

things — 
pictures on the walls, books and papers on the 

table- 
as unconcerned and natural 
as were they strolling down the street as usual 
and gazing into shop windows. 



56 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Every now and then a youth 

under examination at the moment 

would prove so exceedingly handsome 

that the Doctor made admiring exclamation : 

praising the shapely build of him, 

his comeliness and gracious poise, 

and telling him how exceptionally high he stood 

in points that made for physical excellence. 
"It pleases a boy immensely 

to be told such things about himself," 

the Doctor afterwards said to me. 
"It seems worth while to give them happiness 

when perhaps the time for joy in life 

that's left to them 

may not be long now." 



With the final group for the day 

to appear for examination 

came one young fellow of such surpassing quality 

in figure and in feature 

that the Doctor cried out : 
"Just look at that boy there ! 

The last to come in — he's standing now 

the third from the right. 
Of all the recruits I have ever examined 

from the very beginning down to this moment 

unquestionably he is the finest yet." 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 57 

"I well can believe you," I answered. 

"Truly it would seem that he even might be 

the young god Hermes incarnate here before us — 
as beautiful to look upon as the statue by Praxi- 
tiles." 

I noted the name when he gave it 

and the usual facts were written against it : 

Adclbert Enderman — 

and I wondered who the splendid youth might be. 
"You hold the record," the Doctor told him 

when he had been examined : 
"Of all recruits accepted here since the War began 

(and many's the first-class specimen of English 
manhood 

stands to the credit of this station) 

there's no one yet can anywhere near approach you. 
If there be such a thing as absolute perfection 

in the human figure 

I think no other English lad alive 

can be so close to it as you are. 
My friend here is a well known painter, 

and he, I'm sure, will bear out what I tell you." 

"Indeed I will," I heartily agreed. 
"And I only wish I had the privilege 

of painting your likeness — 

portraying you just as you stand 

for that would be the only way 

my brush could do justice to the subject." 



58 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

The youth's clear eyes Ht up; 

but in their limpid glow 

and in the rare boy smile that came with it 

no trace of vanity was visible. 
Rather it seemed the pleasure shown by one 

who bears a gift 

and from the receiver learns its precious worth. 

He flushed and said : 

"I am glad, 1 am glad as 1 can be 

to hear you tell me that. 
I am glad because, if that which 1 am giving 

has all the worth you say it has, 

it still could never be too much 

for me to give for England." 

IV. 

That evening at the club, 

thinking over the day's experience 

I said to myself: 
"li any moral difference there be 

between these days of ours 

and those of ancient times and human sacrifice 

may it not lie in favor of antiquity? 
How would we weigh in the balance — 

we, who offer up 

to our gods of Self Will, Vainglory and Greed 

the choicest blood of our peoples, 

numbering by millions our victims?" 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 59 

Musing on this for a while, 

I picked up a London weekly 

and idly glanced at its contents. 
My eye caught the name, Adelbert Endermon. 
It was signed to these verses : 

ANTINOUS 

"He sacrificed himself to destiny" 
In the flower of my youth 
I stand at the brink of the river. 
The Voice of the Nile 
Is calling me. 

My star, now gleaming above me, 
This night will sink to the river. 

My youth in its flower! . . . 

And I stand at the brink of dark waters. 

The eager waves 

Are clamoring to embrace me. 

They call me to sink in dark waters 

To depths ever tranquil. 

In the flower of my youth, 
In the bloom of my beauty, 
I go rose-garlanded. 



THE RETURNING 

We long for her, we yearn for her — 
Yes, ardently we yearn 
For her return. 

Recalling those beloved days 

(Days intimate with ways 

Of friends so near to us 

And life so dear to us) 

We yearn unspeakably for her return. 

And .come she must. . .Yet while we trust 

We soon may see the passing of this agony 

Which makes intrusive years still seem 

A fearsome dream, 

We know that when she comes 

She really comes not back again. 

She'll come in other guise 
And under fairer skies — 
And yet to bitter pain ! 

That day she went away 

Our homes with laughing youth were filled ; 

Where then was happiness 

Is now distress; 

For when she left 

Youth followed her — 

We stay bereft. 

[60] 



THE UNSEEN HOUSE 6i 

So all our golden joy 

For what she brings 

Must carry gray alloy : 

The sorrow that she cannot lay, 

The misery she cannot stay — 

While all the gladsome songs she sings 

Must bear for undertones 

Old sighs and echoed moans. 

As they who go away 

In flush of youth 

May come quite worn and gray 

And bringing naught but ruth,— 

So, when the strife shall cease, 

And when she comes at last. 

When all the armies vast 

Shall at her feet 

Kneel down to greet 

Thrice-welcome Peace, 

This world will be so changed 

(So many dear ones dead. 

So many friends estranged. 

So many blessings fled. 

So many wonted ways forever barred, 

So many coming days forever marred) 

That then 

She truly comes not back again— 

She, the Peace we knew. 



62 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

Yet how we long for her — - 
How ardently zve yearn 
For her return! 



GOOD-WILL AND GOD'S PEACE 

I. 
O Ruler of Nations and Master of All! 
Thy will be our own as on earth it is done ! 
Protect us, we pray Thee, from victories won 

in warfare for wrong ! 
And in jubilant song may our paeans ne'er sound 

for warriors crowned 
With laurels ill gained — our honor bestained 

by exalting our might 
And abusing Thy bounty in scorn of the Right ! 

II. 

O Ruler of Nations and Master of All! 
We long for the Peace and Good-Will on Earth 
Proclaimed by Thine angels when hailing the birth 
of our Saviour and Lord — 
Who instead brought a szvord: Thy token that strife 

shall dominate Life 

Until Peace has been gained and Good-Will attained 

with our passing from Night 

Out of bloodshed and woe, unto joy in Thy Light. 

III. 
O Ruler of Nations and Master of All! 
Now teach us, Thy peoples, that nowhere on earth 

[63] 



64 THE UNSEEN HOUSE 

The Peace we all long for can ever hold worth 

till Thy boon of Good- Will 

We accept ; that until to achieve it we yearn 

Thy Faith we shall spurn ! 

So our infinite need is a mutual heed 

for the weal and the right 

Of Each and of All on our way to the Light. 



